


Friday the 13th

by greekowl87



Series: @txf-prompt-box Tumblr [6]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Birthday, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Mulder's birthday. Written in 1013 words.





	Friday the 13th

Maybe he was being selfish. He was pretty sure he was. But it was his birthday so he felt entitled to being a wee bit more selfish than usual.

That had been at the unremarkable house for a little over a year. They had developed their own unique rhythm. They both rose early just to see each other for that extra thirty minutes. They enjoyed their morning coffee together. She would go to the hospital. He would take care of the house, check the internet, work on his book, and maybe take a nap. She would get home (at god knows what hour) and they would stay up the extra hour so they could talk and just cuddle. It worked. They made it work.

But still, there was always a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Her birthday the previous year, he had gone the extra length. They had only been at the house for six months and he wanted to make her feel special for just putting up with him since 1993, especially when they went on the run. But he thought she had forgotten and was not coming home that night. That nagging insecurity and guilt were constantly festering these days. But her birthday had ended up being a success and those insecurities were pushed aside.

But this morning had been different. She was already gone by the time he had woken up. Thinking he overslept, he checked the alarm.

Strange.

It was the normal time it was set to go off but there had been no alarm. He thanked his internal timing. But next to the alarm was a folded note. He picked it up wearily.

"Mulder - I got called in early. I don't know when I'll be home. Sorry. Love, S."

He frowned. Not even a birthday mention. Why did birthdays always breed the worst of luck? Mulder padded downstairs to have his coffee and watch the news. The news broadcast was trying to be lighthearted and teasing each other about superstitions on Friday the 13th. Well, he thought, that explains it.

He continued about his day, mopping around the house, trying to keep up his routine. He put away the dishes half-heartedly. He did laundry without a care. He just aimlessly clicked around random websites on the Internet, ultimately ending on some website that had made fun little alien flash game. Mulder soon grew bored of that and looked at the clock on the wall.

It was only five o'clock.

He checked his phone to see if there were any texts or missed calls. He secretly hoped to have something at least acknowledging his birthday. He had grown accustomed to Scully saying something to him and that was all he really wanted. Maybe he was being selfish. But it was his birthday, damn it. He could indulge in it a bit.

Grabbing a used coffee cup from the sink, he pilfered through the cabinets before he found a half-drunk bottle of Jack Daniels that had some snowy night the last December. With the bottle in one hand and the coffee cup in the other, he nudged the screen door open with his foot before shutting the main door. He sat on the steps and poured a healthy amount into the coffee cup. He smelled it, winced, and took a sip, grimacing as he did.

There was one point where birthdays meant nothing. He might drink himself into passing out if he did anything but that all changed with Scully. She did small things for him while they were in the basement at first and the birthday sex had been fantastic when they went to the next level.

But not this year.

Mulder sat alone, sipping Jack Daniels, watching the sunset on their country property, reflecting off the distant brown soybean and brilliant autumn foliage. And it was cold too as the sun dropped. But he did not make an effort to go inside or grab a warmer jacket. The old hoodie he had on was good enough. Besides, he probably deserved it (damn that insecurity and self-martyrdom). Scully really was too good for him. Maybe, just maybe, she actually did leave him. But his mind was blank for reasons why but his heart kept hammering at that insecurity.

He poured another round of Jack Daniels into his coffee mug when he saw the beams of headlights coming down the driveway. FBI? The ghosts of past coming to collect him for his screw ups? He did not care as he took another swig of Jack Daniels.

But it was her car, their car. He glanced at his watch. Eight pm (did he really sit outside for three hours?) and it felt like forever. She got out, dragging her body heavily. She struggled with getting something else out of the car, her briefcase. "Hey, Doc," he called.

She nodded towards the Jack Daniels bottle. "Been out her long?"

"Three hours," he answered simply. "You know me and my insecurities."

"I'm sorry about this morning." She still hadn't moved from the car. "I would've but I had no notice."

He shrugged. For some reason, tears were coming to his eyes. He ducked his head to try and hide them. "No biggie."

"Mulder."

"What?"

He did not look at her and she sighed as a result. "I didn't forget."

"Forget what?"

"It's Friday the 13th."

"Big deal," he shrugged. "Cross any black cats or break any mirrors?"

"In October. Did you think I forgot?"

He looked up surprised and she gave a small smile. "Scoot down a step."

Mulder lowered himself a step-down and she sat behind him, coiling her arms around his chest, burrowing her faced into his neck. She kissed him lovingly. "I would never forget. I'm sorry it seemed like that."

He shook his head, hugging her closer, wishing she would just melt into him. She looked at him fondly and kissed his check. "You know, we still have plans."

"We do?"

"Yep." She traced his chest. "Bedroom or wait?"

"A wee bit longer here." He smiled.


End file.
